


Secret Sin

by BelfastDocks



Category: As I Lay Dying - William Faulkner
Genre: Canon Continuation, F/M, Sex, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2019-07-06 15:33:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15888906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelfastDocks/pseuds/BelfastDocks
Summary: She knows it's far from perfect.Jewel/Kate, LemonAdditional chapters are one-shots focusing on other characters in the original novel, but within the same story line as the first chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote this to satisfy my need to write fanfiction for obscure novels. Way back in 2011, there was very little true "As I Lay Dying" fanfiction on FFnet, and back then, I didn't know about AO3.
> 
> Warning: HEED THE RATING. We all know Jewel Bundren has a mouth on him and this fic explores sexual themes. (I'm really quite ashamed of how many GDs I typed, but Faulkner started it. *finger pointing* The sexual implications, though... Eh, he probably wouldn't care about that, either. Especially since Faulkner himself explored sexual themes in the novel...)
> 
> ~BD

****

## Secret Sin - Lust

****

She brushes through the peck of chickens, ignoring the clucking and fluttering movement about her as she makes her way to the henhouse to collect eggs.

_You be extra-careful with them eggs, you hear? You know we aim to break even this year!_

Seems she can't go anywhere, what without hearing her mother's voice grating in her head. She doesn't realize she's turning into her mother, a little more each day, but she would be horrified if she knew she was.

She looks up and out as she reaches the coop, her eyes flickering unbidden towards two fields over. Against the backdrop of the blazing mid-day sun, so bright it turns the blue sky white-hot instead, she sees through the haze of heat the mules tugging against the plowline, the leather strap cutting into his tanned shoulders. Stripped to the waist, she can imagine the fine glean of sweat on the well-muscled but wiry body, his hands against the plow to guide it. She can see his mouth forming words (even though she can't hear them) as he swears furiously at the mules, almost ready to physically strike them into working harder.

Her blood seems to burn slightly and it has nothing to do with the humid, horrible August weather; she can feel the trickle of sweat on her own body, sliding down her temples from her hairline and down the back of her thin dress, staining the fabric. Down her forearms to the bones of her wrists, between her breasts. She wonders, briefly, how it would feel for sweat to mingle, before her eyes widen in horror at the fact that she thought such a thing at all. God forgive her for such a sin as thinking about...about _that_!

At the same moment, against the sky, his head turns, as though he can sense through two fields that someone is watching him. Embarrassed, she flushes and diverts her gaze, angry with herself because she knows her mother would disapprove. Because _she_ should disapprove. Because God would disapprove. Because he's just a Bundren – a good-for-nothing, lazy Bundren.

And yet...

The fact that he's been working that farm alone for the past year worms its way into her thoughts, and she can't quite shut it out and cling to the old lies that her mother has been spouting off for years. Because he's really not lazy at all, and deep down, she knows it. He can't be lazy and run it himself.

**oOoOoOo**

He never goes to church, preferring to spend his Sundays doing odd chores about the farm that is now his. Knowing that, as it's only him living there now, the work won't get done otherwise.

Besides, his belief in God isn't exactly _strong_ , considering the events that surrounded his mother's death.

He swears profusely under his breath as he goes about his work, cursing the neighbors that won't shut the hell up about his family, cursing the broken lantern he needs to replace when he's next in town, cursing the cow that lows at him from her stall waiting to be milked, cursing Anse for being the good-for-nothing ass that he is, cursing the woman they try to force him to call _mother_ just because she _exists_ , just because she married his pa. The woman who insisted that the entire family move to town because she refuses to live in the _country_.

But he wasn't born a town fellow, and he's not about to try to live that way now, especially with _her_. He pushes the fact that his real mother was born a town woman to the back of his mind; he's lived on this farm his whole life, and there's no sense stopping now. He'll run it his self, goddamn it, or die trying, and he told them that a year ago when he finally got his pa to put the damn deed in his name. He'll get the fucking mortgage paid off and then it'll be his, not Anse's, not anyone else's, and if he has to work nights for Quick for extra money, he'll damn well do that, too.

As he mounts the porch, searching for the cedar water bucket, he hears the creak of wheels and looks towards the road. Vernon drives his mules with slow deliberation, in no hurry to get home from preaching, while his wife softly but clearly sings _Amazing Grace_ on the seat beside him. In the back of the wagon, Kate's eyes jerk uncertainly towards his.

He notices the stain of pink that spreads over her cheeks, the way her gaze quickly diverts to her lap as though hoping he hadn't caught her staring. She looks up once more through her lashes and seems to be disconcerted at the fact that he's still watching her, so she turns her head to stare at the woods on the other side of the road instead.

She might suspicion that he's realized the flush of color in her face has nothing to do with summer heat, and everything to do with the fact that his shirt is sticking to his chest, showing off the sleek musculature of his frame. He narrows his eyes and watches as the wagon moves on up the road before he draws a slow, deep breath and turns for the bucket again.

Kate Tull wouldn't know what to do with him, anyways. He could frighten her easily; scare her off from ever looking his way again. Besides, her mother wouldn't approve of her attentions, and he doesn't much care for any of the Tulls. Damn vultures, the lot of them. And hypocritical. He can't forget how they kept hanging around while his ma was dying.

**oOoOoOo**

She makes her way across the rough, worn fields, the jagged ends of the cotton snagging at her legs and dress.

She isn't certain what's possessed her. She only thanks God that her parents are in town today, buying necessities. She told them she'd rather remain behind to tend to some sewing, feigning a headache to avoid further questions.

Instead, the moment they were a mile up the road, she packed a basket of cornbread and salt pork and made her way towards the old Bundren place.

_His place, now_ , she corrects herself, feeling shameful that she's come this far. She should turn back immediately. She shouldn't have even stepped out of the door. She shouldn't feel the way she does about him, the way she's always secretly felt about him for years and years. Her mother talks incessantly of _sin_ , and if she didn't know better, she'd think being attracted to Jewel is _her_ sin.

She crests the hill and stops on the edge of a field, finding him making his way across it, his long legs striding purposefully towards the cotton house, his hat at an angle over his face to keep the hot sun out of his eyes. His shirt clings to his body, soaked in sweat, and unconsciously her thighs clench in anticipation of _something_ she doesn't understand at all.

He suddenly sees her and stops, his chin tilted back and his frown evident. She wonders if he'll curse at her the way he curses at everything else for trespassing on his property. And so, trying to be brave, she straightens her back and walks to him, acting far too much like her mother than she realizes.

"Have you had anything decent to eat lately?" she demands, assuming the answer is _no_ and knowing he'll tell her that it's none of her damned business and to leave him the hell alone. But Dewey Dell isn't there to cook for him, and Anse and Vardaman and Cash and _that woman_ live in town now, and he's remained unmarried, though every girl in the county talks about wanting to be his wife. Something twists unpleasantly in her gut at the thought of him marrying, but she isn't sure why she should feel so jealous about it. Lots of young men want to court her, after all.

As if he guesses her thoughts, his eyes dart to the basket in her hands and he says hatefully, "Go home. I don't need your goddamn charity, Kate."

He starts to move again, away from her, but she reaches out instinctively and snatches his shirtsleeve, rolled above his elbow and almost soaked through with sweat.

"Don't you talk that way to me, Jewel Bundren!" she snaps, determined not to let his words take the wind out of her and make her feel like a child, though it's so hard not to. She isn't accustomed to swearing; no one in her house would _dare_ to take the Lord's name in vain, or use any other type of profanity, lest Cora take a switch or a skillet to them. She seems to quiver beneath his pale glare, but manages to stammer angrily, "You're out here every day, working this farm by yourself, and I figure you must be hungry. Now are you gonna eat what I brought over, or ain't you?"

He stops and looks at her again, his eyes glittering so that her body shrinks in on itself out of sudden fear. He looks at her in a way that makes her wonder if he mistook her meaning – if he's really hungry for something besides food. He steps close to her, so much taller than she is, making her feel small and insignificant again, making her hate him and making her believe her mother's constant stream of disgust in his person. Making her wish she'd never come here. She should just turn and run away, right this second.

But the trouble is, she seems frozen.

He reaches, his lips curling in a sneer, and she feels his hand brush hers. The sweat on his knuckles slides against the sweat on her fingers. Her breathing hitches and she feels that odd brush between her legs again, more insistent, more...damp. It scares her and thrills her at the same time. Her eyes move to the triangle of his chest visible – a long, smooth strip of tanned skin, because he's unbuttoned his shirt further down then most men do. A lot further down then her father ever does. He notices the way she's tensed and his hand lingers, the rough hot pads of his fingertips skimming her wrist and up her arm a few inches, until she shakes herself and draws away from him sharply.

She sees his smile now – not soft and sweet like some of the boys in church give her on Sundays, hoping she'll agree to court them...but cruel and wicked, as though he knows everything she doesn't. As though he knows what his touch does to her and relishes the fact that she hasn't quite figured it out, yet. As though he wants to _teach_ her.

Then he snatches the basket from her, leaving her in a state of semi-confusion and uncertainty. He doesn't thank her; he only says shortly, "You can pick the basket up tomorrow. I'll leave it behind the barn for you. Since," his eyes glitter with fury, "yer ma doesn't know you brought it up. Does she?"

And he leaves her standing along the row of cotton, trying to control her breathing. Trying to make sense of how he's made her feel. Trying to cling to derision instead of lust.

**oOoOoOo**

Dawn hasn't quite broken when he hears her footsteps coming up the path towards the barn, and he pauses in hitching the team.

She has to step inside the barn to get it, since he's placed it just inside the door on the back wall, and when she sees him, she stops.

After taking a long, hard look at her, he goes back to fastening the leather straps on the mules, the jangling of the harnesses louder then usual, it seems.

"You cook good." His voice is haughty, controlled. "Better than yer ma, leastways."

He senses her body stiffen, and he rolls her eyes at her reaction.

"Don't you talk that way about my ma! It ain't Christian!"

The word _Christian_ does something to him, something bad; it makes the fury that always seems to boil just beneath the surface rise without check. In a sudden burst of anger, he throws the harness straps down and turns to face her, reaching her in four strides. Her body moves, as though she would make to run away before he can say what he wants, and he reaches out and grabs her wrist in a painful vice.

"You can go to hell," he snarls angrily. "The way you talk about _me_ is Christian? The way you talk about my family? Don't think I don't know it!" He shakes her once, and she winces with a cry. "The whole goddamn county knows it! Most of 'em talk just as bad! You don't even know what it _means_ to be Christian!"

She wrenches, trying to escape, her voice pitched and shaky. "You let me go right this second! Let me _go_!"

"No! It's high-time someone taught you a goddamn lesson," he growls, and he pulls her to him, trapping her against his body, closing an arm around her waist while holding her wrist to keep her from hitting him. It all sends a thrill through him, in a dark way, because she's frightened and he's glad of it. Little bitch _needs_ to be frightened. Maybe she'll leave him the hell alone, then. He doesn't need her; he doesn't need anybody.

He kisses her before she can protest further. It isn't a gentle kiss – shit, it's not exactly a _real_ kiss. It's rough and hot and he's gripping the back of her head while she struggles and pushes at him, the furious, high-pitched sounds in her throat egging him on to scare her even more. Making the blood curl low in his stomach. Their lips mash together in a tight line, for she's not kissing back, and he could care less. When he finally releases her, he actually pushes her away from him and she stumbles into the doorframe, breathing hard and eyes glittering angrily. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand in a motion of defiance, grabs the basket, and leaves in a whirlwind.

He hopes he got the point across. That it felt damned good is just a bonus.

**oOoOoOo**

She avoids him. She doesn't go to see him again or sneak him any more plates of dinner. He can cook for himself, the son of a bitch. She's never thought that way before, never thought _profanity_ before, but she does now. She doesn't look towards his fields or search for his face in church as she once did, because he won't be there anyways.

She listens absent-mindedly while her mother complains that he's committing sacrilege just like his mother did, only in his case it's by not attending services every single Sunday. And her mother blatantly refuses to call on him because he's as likely to curse her out the door as not. Besides, Cora never liked him anyways; he's a good-for-nothing Bundren like his father, and naturally, that gets her started in on Anse and the woman he married before Addie was even cold in her grave, and from there on to that tomboy girl who got pregnant and ran away to God only knew where, because Anse kicked her out and wouldn't have nothing to do with her.

On the opposite side of the coin, she catches her father's occasional remarks that Cora's statements regarding Jewel aren't quite true. After all, the boy's working at paying off the farm, which is more than Anse ever did or ever would do, and as it's just him there, he needs the extra day to get things done about the place, and God probably wouldn't begrudge him that much. Her mother scoffs at this notion, determined to believe ill of Addie Bundren's third child, and goes off on a tangent about the Sabbath being Holy.

But when Kate awakes one night, her nightdress damp against her hips and breasts, clinging to her body as she arches from sheer need due to the dream that is slipping away like water in cupped hands, she gasps for breath and panics. God help her; she's committing sin in her sleep and she can't stop it...! Will she be forgiven for such? The only thing she has to be grateful for is that her sister is married and doesn't share the room with her anymore; if Eula knew what she was dreaming, she'd tell their mother, and then she'd be in for it. And so she prays for her soul until she tries to drift back to sleep, tossing and twisting while her mind is full of images, of trying to be the good Christian girl her mother insists she be, while at the same time she imagines hands touching her in places she didn't know would sing until touched by a man.

Or perhaps not just any man, but _him_.

After a month or so, she learns how to touch herself in the dark, slowly at first, because it surely must be sin. Tracing her fingers over her hard nipples and down the taut plain of her stomach, feeling her skin twitch beneath her touch. She flinches when first she delves her fingers between her legs, seeking the point of her center that seems to throb whenever she wakes from her dreams. Eventually, she begins to imagine that they are Jewel's hands smoothing over her body instead of her own, and she bites her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, lest her mother discover her horrible sin.

After nearly two months of dreaming and daydreaming about him, the truth strikes her between the eyes with the force of a hammer, and she begins to seriously panic. What has she done? She can't seem to stop, no matter how she tries. She's always secretly fancied him, despite how much her mother would object, and it's growing worse. So much so, that she begins to calculate.

She doesn't want to end up like his sister, pregnant and kicked out of the family, and the calendar in her head tells her what days would be appropriate and what days not.

Then she becomes upset with herself, because it doesn't matter, because he's made it evident that he hates her. Because she's been told that to be a good Christian girl, she should be pure on her wedding night. Because her mother would flay her alive if she knew what her youngest daughter was thinking, _wanting_. Because to want to rut with him _is_ sin, even though it isn't a human being's place to discern what is and isn't sin. (Though her mother insists adultery is definitely sin...)

And so she hates herself, because she is afraid of committing sin and her mother discovering her secret.

**oOoOoOo**

It is the end of October when he sees her next, and her absence has been noticeable to the point that he often wonders if she's a coward for avoiding him, or if she's found another man to flirt with.

...But he _wanted_ her to avoid him, didn't he? He scoffs himself for being such a goddamn idiot. It's better if he never sees the little cunt again. Too much like her mother, she is.

He is working in the cotton house when she appears in the doorway on a cool morning, wearing a thin dress and a knitted shawl against the chilly breeze, her face pale and drawn as she watches him intently.

His breath sucks in slow with pooling desire, mixed with quite a measure of irritation. "What the hell do you want?" he demands quietly, annoyed by her sudden, random appearance after two months.

She twitches, her eyes lowering and her hand clutching the shawl tighter. She looks upset. Nervous.

"Does your ma and pa know you came over here?" He throws the words at her, harsh and unfeeling, wanting to feed on his dislike of her family to obscure the strange feelings he's been experiencing about _her_ lately. He's had a few women, but he never thought he'd be interested in one of Vernon's daughters, because he doesn't really like Vernon _or_ Cora much.

She shakes her head a fraction, then whispers, "They went to town, today. Ma needed winter supplies."

He wrinkles his nose and steps towards her, until he's almost close enough for them to touch. Quietly, he hisses, "What are you doing here, Kate?"

The sound of her name seems to rouse her; she stirs and straightens, until her eyes meet his. "To see how you were gittin' on."

"Why the hell do you care?"

She closes her eyes, as though in pain. "I shouldn't, should I?"

"You know, you're just like your ma. Always meddlin'. Always acting so goddamn self-righteous, talkin' about everyone else like you're the only goddamn people goin' to heaven at the end."

He watches her body grow taunt, the way the movement makes her breasts jut slightly. His hands immediately itch to hold them, squeeze them between his fingers, make her cry out, to back her against the wall of the cotton house so she can't escape. He hasn't had a woman in a while now, trying to work the farm alone. It's amazing how fast his body reacts.

"I didn't realize you hated me so much. I'll leave you alone, then." Her voice is cold, as though she is trying to sound unfeeling. As though she wants him to believe his attitude doesn't bother her, that she could take it or leave it, when it's obvious otherwise.

Seeing her start to move to leave, he steps forward and grabs her arm, pulling her into the cotton house and against his body. Without waiting for permission, he kisses her for the second time in his life.

It's better then the last kiss. He's not idealistic so he doesn't think _perfect_ ; he just thinks _better_. Instead of being tight-lipped and furious, it's just hot. Her mouth molds to his and opens; he groans at the taste of her breath and backs her into the wall just as he envisioned. His hands slide beneath the shawl and cup the pert breasts he had just been glancing at, and he hears her moan of pleasure, low in her throat and needy even as she struggles. He keeps her hips pinned with his, keeps her where he wants her. And then suddenly, her hands work into his hair, her nails digging into his scalp and making him grunt in pleasure. He leaves her lips and nips at her neck. At this, she gasps and pulls away, jerking her head.

"No, wait! You can't leave marks! If ma –!"

"Hell," he growls. "To hell with your ma and pa both, damn it!"

As if to prove the point, he thrusts his hips against hers, his cock straining against his slacks. Her mouth parts open and her head tilts back against the rough boards, and he sees the fear in her eyes again.

"Stop, please stop," she begs, suddenly realizing the gravity of the situation.

"You wanted this, or you wouldn't have come here this morning. Say it, Kate. For once in your goddamn life, speak the fucking truth and stop hiding behind that bullshit your ma spouts off all the time."

She struggles, burying her face in his shoulder, nails digging into the biceps of his arms almost painfully, and he feels her body shift as though to put distance between them. She's still trying to deny what she feels, because she believes it to be shameful. She doesn't want to face such things. She doesn't want to believe Kate Tull could experience lust and need.

He tilts her head back by grabbing her hair and pulling, and kisses her lips again, hard and coaxing at the same time. His other hand is unfastening buttons on her dress, until he can he delve inside and his fingers curl around her breast, feeling it through the thin shift beneath. She arches, her nipple tightening against her will into his calloused palm.

Still teasing her lips, he breathes, "You sweet little bitch..."

Her breath hisses inward as he kisses her again, swallowing the cry she utters as she continues to push against him.

"Don't you call me that," she moans. Her breath is heavy and she stutters, her eyes slightly glazed. "I... I have to go home...!"

He ignores her and rubs himself against her, letting her feel the aching erection against her thigh, and he slides a hand beneath her dress and up her leg. She arches again, unwillingly, her body moving unconsciously against her better judgment. He likes that, savors it. It means that somewhere within her dwells a girl that wants to rebel against her mother. His fingers skate the inside of her thigh and up against her center, his eyes darkening upon the discovery of thick wetness gathered there. Sweet Jesus, the girl _does_ want him. It slowly dawns on him that perhaps this is why she hasn't come by in two months. As he brushes his hand against the damp heat, she twitches, shaking her head furiously, tears slipping down her cheeks, whispering for him to please let her go and not meaning a word of it.

He leans forward to murmur in her ear, his tone soothing and swearing all at the same time, while his fingers rub tight, slow circles into her damp flesh. When her hips begin to undulate beneath him, he thrusts against her thigh, relishing the friction of the fabric of his drawers and trousers along his hard length and the sticky wetness that coats his fingers. She wants him. But he needs to draw her away from her mother's stupid beliefs before rutting with her; otherwise she'll just find a way to take revenge on him.

Against the sensitive shell of her ear, he continues to _shhh_ her and murmur for her to _let go_ , and after a few moments she begins to move harder against him, grinding herself into his fingers while begging for more instead of begging him to stop. He presses up, one knuckle into her tight heat, placing pressure upon her swollen clit. It's so tight that it makes his stomach ripple with pleasure at the thought of plowing into her. She spasms silently, hips thrusting forward, eyes rolling closed and head tilted back as her orgasm hits her and her knees buckle and she groans in relief. She's probably never experienced one before, and he likes the thought that he showed her that, first. He keeps her in place with his lower body, keeps her upright as she sags against the side of the cotton house. Breathing hard, he waits for her to come back down, listening to the heavy gasps and enjoying the tight grip she has on his arms.

After a few long, quiet moments, he whispers in her ear, "You should go home, Kate. Before I do anything else."

She shudders as he steps back, away from her. She just does catch her balance, and after a moment, she slowly buttons her dress and stumbles to the door, pausing once to look back at him. Then, before he realizes what she's doing, she darts forward and kisses him hard, before she bolts out and away from him.

He is still hard, still aching, but he doesn't mind as much as he thought he would. She'll be back, after all. He knows it.

And he can't help smiling for it, either.

**oOoOoOo**

When he walks through the church door the first Sunday morning in November, the congregation glances at him before the whispers break out like little fires through the pews.

He fights the urge to curse them all to hell as he slides sulkily into the pew closest to the door, in the very back.

Through the sea of heads and hats, he can just make out Kate's hair, where she sits next to her parents in the front row, because Heaven forbid Cora Tull sit any further back. With vindictive pleasure, he hopes God places her as far away from him as possible when the feast comes at the End of Time.

Preacher Whitfield, a man he's never much cared for, has the audacity to talk about the sin of adultery today, and he immediately wishes he'd never come at all. It's only serving to piss him off even more than he normally is, for while the bastard goes on about lust and sin, he can't help but recall his brother's taunting words.

_Who is your father, Jewel?_

He flinches, wishing to God he'd killed the son of a bitch when he had the chance, but Cash and Anse and the men from the asylum wouldn't let him. The differences Darl had pointed out to him back then, now rush to the front of his mind with amazing clarity.

_You're a head taller than Cash and me, have you noticed it? Always have been, you know. You look different then the rest of us, too. Ma petted you more growin' up. That's why she named you Jewel. Isn't it obvious our pa isn't your pa? Who is your father, Jewel?_

_Who is your father?_

Then he notices that Whitfield is stumbling through the sermon, occasionally glancing right at him and faltering each time he does.

He does nothing except glare back, wondering why the bastard is so damned fidgety. Just because he decided to show up in church today is no reason for a man of the cloth to get nervous. He never did like Whitfield much, though he can't say why. Besides, he's no saint and he doesn't need saving, but his mother would want him to be here, he reckons. That's the only reason he came at all.

That, and to see Kate.

What the hell is happening to him?

When the man finally shuts the hell up, Jewel is out of his seat before anyone else; out of the door and into the churchyard and the cold air. He heads immediately for the wagon and starts to climb into the seat, determined to skip a few more Sundays before returning him again, when he hears his name. Glancing behind him, leaning back, he sees Vernon hurrying across the dead grass.

"Wait a moment, Jewel," he says. "Cora wants to speak to you."

"Don't have time. I need to be gittin' home, Vernon."

"I understand," he says courteously, "but she wanted to invite you to dinner."

He wrinkles his lip, on the verge of saying something ugly, when Cora appears and looks up at him, a myriad of expressions on her face. She can't decide if she wants to be angry, or if she should be Christian.

"Come on over to the house 'round two and have some supper," she finally says. "We'd like it right nice if you'd join us, Jewel."

He struggles, wanting to say no. Wanting to tell her to go to hell and leave him alone, because he knows she dislikes him. But then Kate appears behind her, her eyes downcast and nervous, and he feels vindictive again.

"All right," he says shortly. "I'll come."

**oOoOoOo**

She places the greens on the table and goes back to the kitchen to fetch the bread, bustling about her work as deliberately as possible, so as not to look at him or give her own feelings away.

He and Vernon are out on the porch, talking about this year's crop and what they expect it'll fetch at market, how the winter is going to be a cold one, how the weather is coming in quick this time of year.

Her mother's lips are in a tight line; occasionally, she hums a few bars of this hymn or that one, or makes some murmured remark of how she knows her Christian duty and aims to do it.

Dinner is just as awkward as everything else seems to be. He doesn't want to be there and her mother doesn't want him there, but her father continues to chat with him about various topics and he answers in monosyllables most of the time, his body stiff and his manner affected. She notices his Sunday clothes are right nice, fairly new, and he's shaved and cleaned up right smart. It makes her body twitch at wanting to get him alone and feel his lips against her skin once more. To peal those nice clothes off of him...

He gives her mother a random compliment about the food; her mother tells him that her daughter cooked today, bringing her back to reality.

At this, he glances at _her_ , his eyes smoldering and pale, narrowed, searching. She quickly looks back at her plate. He gives the compliment to her instead and she nods once to show she heard him.

Her mother then starts talking about the sermon, praising Brother Whitfield for his ability to captivate his audience and channel the will of God to the people of New Hope.

A red flush creeps up his neck towards his jaw as Cora goes on, but he says nothing except, "I thought he seemed nervous."

"Probably because he saw you, I reckon." Her father chuckles good-naturedly. "Probably wondering what'd happened to make you show up in church."

Jewel stiffens at this remark, but shrugs it off. "Well. There's lots to do around the place, what with it being just me. Can't afford to go every week. Nothing git done otherwise."

"Have you heard from Anse lately, Jewel?" her mother asks curtly, her lips in a tight line again.

"No. Cash wrote to say they was gittin' on well enough. Don't matter to me one way or the other, though."

Her mother looks surprised. "But... They're your family!" she insists.

He doesn't respond to this, except to rise from his seat and nod his head in mock-politeness. "I'd better be gittin' home. I've got plenty to do. Thank you for the supper, Mrs. Tull."

His lip wrinkles slightly, but no one notices except Kate. Her mother too busy fussing over him to stay for a spell (whether she wants him to or not), his father offering to help him with the cotton (whether he wants to or not). Jewel declines both, and Vernon walks with him to the front porch while Cora and Kate start clearing the table.

However, when her father finally comes back in, he looks thoughtful and wary. Her mother asks him what took so long, and he stands quiet for a long time before he finally says, "Jewel asked if he mightn't court Kate. I told him I'd think about it an' let him know."

Kate nearly drops the plate she's holding, and her mother stares in shock.

"Court _Kate_? _Our_ Kate?" she nearly shrieks.

And before she knows it, her parents are arguing over the idea – her mother completely against it and her father debating and hem-hawing like he always does, before Kate stammers that Jewel has always been kind to her and she wouldn't object courting him. She likes him better than others, she says.

And even as she says such things, she struggles to ignore the fluttering in her stomach and chest, because he _hasn't_ always been kind to her, and after what happened a couple of weeks ago, he hasn't even been _good_ to her the way her mother would expect. But she's drawn to him, attracted to him, always has been.

He could take care of her, she adds. He's paying the farm off like her pa did on theirs.

Despite this, the argument continues for some time until her mother throws her hands up and starts singing (always the answer to everything it seems), and Kate finds sanctuary in her room, not certain what to feel or why.

**oOoOoOo**

The last thing he wanted was to be sitting on the Tull's porch every two or three days or so, having a strained conversation with Kate, knowing her parents are listening to every goddamned word.

He knows her mother wonders that her daughter likes him at all, because their conversations are hardly conversations. Quiet questions and one-word answers, mostly. It doesn't sound like two people who might possibly love each other.

_Did you get your cotton sold in town?_

_Yeah._

_That's good._

Minutes of silence between questions are common, nervous shifting on Kate's part even more so.

_It'll be a cold winter._

_Probably._

Sadly, they do seem to discuss the weather every time he goes over. But then again, she can't easily ask him about sex, and God knows he can't kiss her in front of her parents. Cora'd kill him with an iron skillet if he did.

_Got a letter from Cash yesterday._

_Oh?_

_Said Vardaman's doing pretty well in school. Better'n they expected._

_Well, that's something._

_Hmm. Suppose so. Never thought he was too smart, myself._

And so their only real interaction is whenever her parents are unaware – whenever she sneaks over to his place and meets him in the fields as he's tending to winter crops. She steals quick, hot, burning kisses that leave him twitching for more, though sometimes he's able to grab her before she runs off, and he kisses her senseless for five or ten minutes, before she finally pulls away and hurries home again.

It leaves them both wanting more, wanting to find each other in the dark. It leaves him cursing himself that he's going to be married to her with a mother-in-law that dislikes him and a father-in-law that can't make up his own mind for a change.

But Kate knows he's not like Vernon. She won't be running their household the way her mother runs hers. He'll go to Hell first before he allows _that_ to happen.

**oOoOoOo**

She moans at the feel of him, hands alternating between clenching the worn bed sheets and his arms. She can't seem to anchor herself and isn't sure she wants to, but God! She must, or she'll spiral out of control.

Against her neck, he whispers and purrs in her ear, coaxing her, teaching her, teasing her, holding her hip against his with rough fingers that carve into her flesh as though seeking to brand her as his.

She marvels at the way their bodies seem to fit together, the way her taut stomach melds into his hard one, the way his lips rove over her body in slow, unhurried patterns, the way his thick blond hair muses beneath her fingers when she thinks to run them across his scalp. She never really noticed before, but he's the only one of his family with blond hair, now that she thinks on it. The others all have black hair and dark eyes. But not Jewel.

She feels as though she will fall through the ceiling when she comes around him, so hard that lights burst behind closed her eyelids as she gasps his name desperately and clings to his sweat-soaked body, one leg trembling against the mattress and the other shaking as it slips on his narrow waist. So far gone is she that she doesn't notice his smile in the dim light of the kerosene lantern or even hear the loving profanity as he swears to Heaven when he comes after her.

Minutes later, panting for breath with his weight comfortably on top of her, her fingers and lips gently tracing the sharp lines of his face that seem to relax only for her, she shakily questions if they've committed sin. They aren't married yet, though her mother has set aside a date in early spring and is already arranging everything. What have they done? What will happen now?

To her surprise, he props up on one elbow, cups her cheek, and sternly tells her that it isn't her place to judge what is or isn't sin, and if they love each other, it won't matter to God or anyone else. And if anyone questions their actions, then they can go to hell.

And as she gazes at him in wonder, he adds that if she turns into her mother, he'll fucking divorce her, and a shoving sort of mock-fight ensues, before she kisses him long and slow, and soberly mumbles that she must get home before her parents get back and realize she's not where she's supposed to be.

He releases her without question, and watches her dress by the light of the lantern while he lays sprawled on the bed, smirking.

**oOoOoOo**

He tugs at his shirt collar. It's damned uncomfortable. Everything is damned uncomfortable, really. He wishes the day were over and done, or wasn't even happening at all.

"How are you?"

"What the hell sort of question is that?" he demands furiously, turning to glare at Whitfield, who has seemingly crept up behind him. He really hates the man.

The pastor frowns at his language but merely diverts his eyes to the floor. And why the hell can't he ever look anyone in the eye?

After a few seconds, Whitfield says deliberately, "It is not uncommon for the young to feel nervous over such a monumentous event."

There isn't even a comment for such a _ludicrous_ statement, except:

" _Hell_!"

"Now, Jewel –"

"Why don't you get on to your pulpit, preacher, and stop worrying about _me_? People get married every goddamn day," he snaps, jamming his fists into the pockets of his dress slacks. "And you can keep it short and sweet, too. I don't want you to drag it on like you do your goddamn sermons, until all hours of the afternoon."

Whitfield looks as though he wants to correct such terrible sacrilege upon holy ground, but after a moment, he nods curtly and heads back inside the small church. He pauses at the doorway for a brief second only to say coldly, "Well. I'm sure your mother would be pleased with your choice. Kate Tull is a fine young lady."

"It doesn't much matter what my mother thinks," he growls, resisting the temptation to strike the man across the jaw, "seeing as she's dead."

"Now see here – it's not Christian to speak that way of the dead, and I certainly won't stand to here you speak that way of your mother." He almost sounds angry about it, for some reason.

"There's lots of things that aren't Christian, but I sure as hell don't need you to tell me what they are or how to speak of _my mother_."

Whitfield struggles a moment, before storming into the church, clearly furious. Jewel ignores him and goes back to wishing the day were over, hardly bothering to nod at the guests arriving in their Sunday best who give him fake, polite smiles.

When Cash arrives with Peabody, a few of the men-folk standing about the church yard greet him cordially; Cash nods to each of them before heading up to his brother.

"Pa couldn't make it," he says apologetically. "Mrs. Bundren weren't feeling too well and he didn't think he could leave her. With her nerves and all."

"Good," he snarls viciously, gazing out across the land. "Didn't want neither of them here no ways."

Cash runs a hand behind his neck. "Fraid I can't stay too long myself. Seeing as Peabody drove me out..."

He nods once to show he understands, and asks absently, uncaring, "How's Vardaman?"

"Got in a spot of trouble a few days ago. Mrs. Bundren wouldn't let him come for it. That's why he's not here either. Stole some bananas from a general store. I'll be durned if I know where he done got such a notion."

"Dewey Dell?"

"Taint heard from her." Cash sighs heavily. "No idea where she done gone."

"Her own fault." He doesn't much care one way or the other about Dewey Dell, either.

"I'd like to know who else's fault it was, myself."

"Could be anyone, knowing Dewey Dell."

"Well. Might be inviting y'all to come to mine soon enough," Cash goes on, keeping his weight on his good leg as he looks about the churchyard.

He doesn't respond to this. Cash wrote to tell him about the nice young woman he met in Jefferson already, at church, no less. Instead, after a few long moments, he spits into the dust and shrugs. "Well. 'Preciate you coming out."

"Glad to do it."

Whitfield steps back out, looking stiff and irritated. "It's time," he says shortly.

They look at each other, resigned, and together, Cash and Jewel enter the church.

**oOoOoOo**

Some people say they're ill matched, and there are some times she can well believe it.

Her husband has a ferocious temper that she positively hates. She wonders how she never noticed it before, or if she was just blind to it while they were courting.

She can't help being a bit like her mother every once in a while, even if she's not aware of it, and that pisses him off to high heaven, for some reason.

She's more religious then he is and occasionally he'll snap at her to stop that goddamned singing so he can think straight for once.

She gets angry with him for using the Lord's name in vain and he tells her he'll say what he goddamn wants to say, and to stop her goddamn nagging.

He storms out to the fields without speaking to her some mornings and she feels lonely, which turns to anger and frustration. She often wishes she could knock him on the head with a skillet for his surliness.

But then...

Then, she sees their two sons going about the chores on a farm they now own in full, and she thinks that not many can say that. Not many own their land outright. Not many have the drive her husband has to try and rise above the rest.

Or when her husband vindictively locks their bedroom door at night to keep the same two young boys from barging in on them while they make love. She can't help but smiling at him when he does that, when he hollers at them through the wall to get the hell to sleep. She can't help but draw him into her arms then, and bite her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure as he teases her in the dark.

Her mother can say what she wants, complain as much as she likes (and she does...God knows she does - she's always telling her daughter that Jewel is a selfish, selfish man who doesn't love anyone, let alone his wife).

But Kate blocks Cora out with memories of lying with her husband in their bed, curled up next to him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while he sleeps. Stroking his hair and his chest, revealing in the fact that he once told her he'd never, ever cheat on her, though she didn't understand the furious expression on his face when he brought it up and she hasn't dared to ask him about it again, because the first time she did, he only muttered something about Darl.

She knows it's far from perfect. But still. He's hers.


	2. Secret Sin: Brothel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on Dewey Dell and Jewel, post-novel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote Secret Sin in 2011, and I really wanted to write another chapter to this story. But it is really hard to get into these characters' heads. I sketched this brief interlude out during class. It takes place after Secret Sin, and I debated whether I wanted to make it a separate story or keep all of my AILD stories under one fanfic together. In the end, I decided to keep it with Secret Sin.
> 
>  
> 
> Some personal notes on dates, ages, etc.:
> 
> Faulkner doesn't state when AILD actually takes place, but it was likely the mid-1920's. In short, it is not a novel about the Great Depression. The South was notably poorer than other regions even during the prosperous 1920's.
> 
> From the novel itself, we know Darl fought in World War I. We also know that Dewey Dell is 17 in the novel, and that it was "nigh on ten years" after Darl's birth before Jewel was born. If, say, Darl was around 20 years old in 1917, this would make his birth year ca. 1897, which places Jewel's birth year around 1906, and if Cash is a year or two older than Darl, he was probably born in 1895 or 1896. We can assume Jewel is at least in his late teens when the novel takes place – maybe 18 or 19 years old, which dates the novel to 1924 or 1925. Dewey Dell was born in 1907 or 1908. Vardaman is the wild card, but I always assumed he was about 10 years old, making his birth year around 1917.
> 
> Those are just my speculations, of course. Onwards...!
> 
> ~BD

****

## Secret Sin - Brothel

****

_Winter, 1926_

In an effort to make more money to pay off the mortgage, he starts helping Quick with lumber in his spare time. There isn't much to do on the farm until spring planting, and sometimes he just needs to get away from that new wife of his. He isn't overly fond of Quick, but he wants the money, and he doesn't want to be too beholding to Tull.

To his irritation, Quick also hires MacCallum – one of the laziest men in the whole damn county. More than once, Jewel wishes Quick would fire MacCallum's sorry ass. He's more suited for farm work; not for hauling lumber.

On their third trip that first week, with two full loads, MacCallum says he has something he needs to do in town, and leaves Jewel to unload the lumber at the mill on the outskirts of town. He takes a mule and bails, and Jewel swears to high heaven while he unloads by himself. The foreman keeps frowning at him and wondering out loud why "that there other fellow" disappeared. Jewel says he doesn't fucking know, and keeps unloading.

When he finishes, he waits. But after twenty minutes, he's so pissed off about the whole thing that he asks the foreman to hire him for the day and to saw lumber, since he has no idea when MacCallum will return. The foreman and manager grapple, there is some hedging and haggling, and they finally (grudgingly) agree to pay Jewel for a day's work.

By nightfall, MacCallum still hasn't returned. The mill shuts down for the evening, Jewel receives his pay, and in pure anger, he storms towards town to track the son of a bitch down, if for no other reason than he needs the fucking mule to haul the wagons back to Quick.

The shop fronts have long since closed and the owners headed to supper. The only lights are those of homes and, in the worse districts, brothels and bars. He has better use of his money than wasting it on whiskey, but he checks the bars to make sure MacCallum isn't at his cups. None of the bartenders has seen him, but finally, with only a couple of bars left, Jewel asks an old man wiping out a glass. The man stares at him balefully for a moment before admitting that he did see the fellow a bit earlier, drunk off his ass, and that he likely went to Miss Daisy's, "cuz he's got a bitch up there".

Jewel heads through the alleys and bangs into the brothel in question without knocking. The madam looks him up and down appraisingly, but he ignores her.

"I'm looking for Lafe MacCallum," he snarls. "Bout yea high, darkish hair. Heard he come here."

The woman's expression immediately changes; no longer does she look him over as though thinking he is attractive. Now, she looks mad and worried at the same time. "We don't want no trouble here," she snaps shortly.

"Ain't looking for trouble," he growls. "Looking for that goddamn sorry cuss. Might say I'm responsible for the mule he rode up on, the son of a bitch." Without waiting for a response, he heads up the rickety staircase, and the woman starts shrieking that he can't go upstairs unless he pays first. He ignores her and kicks the first door open.

A young, straggly-haired woman and an older, paunchy man stare at him like frightened rabbits from the bed, and without waiting for a response, he moves on to the next door. A skinny blonde girl screams and snatches her negligee around her; he ignores her too, and kicks the third door open, then the fourth.

In the fourth small room, he discovers the filthy piece of shit, passed out on the floor and snoring lightly. The girl is sitting at a scuffed, dirty vanity – she sees Jewel in the mirror and turns abruptly. She is dark-haired and thin, and she eyes him sharply, as though she could kill him with her eyes, and he stares back at her, his anger rising even more, and quickly, suffusing his face.

The madam appears behind him at that moment, furious and puffed up like a mad hen. "You git out of here!" she yells at him hatefully. "You ain't paid for her and she's with another man right now!"

The girl stands up, not bothering to pull on a robe. Her negligee is dirty and thin; she may as well be wearing nothing. In a flat, quiet voice, she says, "It's okay. He's an old acquaintance. Ain't seen him in a while. I'd like to talk to him. We won't do nothin' else, I promise." She jerks her head slightly towards MacCallum, and adds, " _He_ can't do nothin' right now no ways."

"You sure, Della?" the madam asks coldly. "You don't get paid if you don't work, girl."

"I'm sure," she answers.

The woman slams the door behind him, leaving him standing in a dirty, cramped room with just a bed, a vanity, a rickety chair, and a broken dresser.

After a long moment, he demands, "Where's the goddamn baby?"

Her eyes look dead. She sits down on the vanity and looks down at MacCallum, and in that moment, he knows the truth and a wave of anger infuses through him.

She says wearily, "Gave it up. Started working here. Ain't nothing else I'm fit for, is there?"

"It was his, wasn't it?"

She doesn't respond, she just fidgets with the hem of her negligee and keeps looking down at the passed-out son of a bitch.

"Why you ain't using your real name, is it?"

"Didn't want no one to find me." She rouses herself and looks at him, her brow furrowing slightly. "How _did_ you?"

"I didn't." His voice is short and belies the anger. "Quick hired both me and him, and that good-for-nothing piece of horse-shit ran out on me today. Left me to unload two goddamn wagons by myself so he could get drunk and come here."

"He brings me a little money now and again. Not often."

He bares his teeth in his anger. "Only cuz he wants to rut."

"Sorry he left you to unload," she mumbles, looking away.

"Not as sorry as he's gonna be when he wakes up and finds he's stranded in town."

Dewey Dell doesn't argue with him, nor does she beg him not to leave MacCallum behind. Instead, she says, "How's pa?"

"Don't know. Never see him. Don't care to."

She looks confused. "You ain't living in Jefferson?"

"No."

"Where are you living, then?"

"Home," he answers shortly.

"Oh. You still farming that place?"

"Made that woman get pa to sell me the mortgage," he growls. "She got him to do it. Only thing the bitch has ever done for me."

"You're married." She nods towards his left hand.

"So's Cash."

"How is Cash?"

"Last I saw he was doing decent. Leg bothers him some still."

"Vardaman?"

"No idea."

She doesn't ask about the other one, and after a long, tense moment, Jewel turns to leave. Behind him, she says sharply, "Don't you tell nobody, Jewel. You hear me?"

His lip curls. "Why the hell would I?"

"Don't expect you to help me, neither." She fumbles over these words, glancing back down at MacCallum as she says them.

He doesn't respond to that at all, because he _doesn't_ intend to help her. Instead, he leaves the room and heads downstairs, slamming the door behind him. On his way out the side door, the madam claws at him, demanding to know why the hell he didn't take that drunkard out when that's what he came for. He ignores her, too. Outside, he grabs the mule MacCallum took, and leads it back to the silent mill. He hitches the wagons together and the mules to the front, and heads back towards Quick's place.

He arrives late at night, and Quick is in a foul temper. Jewel tells him the truth: that MacCallum bailed out, and he watches as Quick's face turns purple by the lantern light.

"'preciate you telling me." Quick spits into the dust, his lips pulled back and his teeth gleaming yellow in the glow of the flame. "He better not show up here again. I'll beat his sorry ass into the ground. He'll wish he'd never been born. I 'sume you still want the work. Can you manage by yourself 'til I find someone else?"

"Rather do it by myself," he says shortly. "Then I ain't got to rely on no one else."

Quick nods. "Understood."

Without another word, Jewel heads home.


	3. Murder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unknown thief is breaking into homes throughout New Hope - and makes the mistake of crossing Jewel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Major character death, dark themes, violence, language, murder, all that jazz. It is Faulkner, y'all. There is also one line in the second half of the chapter in which Cora refers to African Americans as negroes - this is merely in keeping with the language of the timeframe in which the story takes place.
> 
>  **Pairings:** Same as the previous chapters, folks. Jewel/Kate
> 
>  
> 
> **Author's Note:** This chapter is far darker than the previous two but continues in the same story line. I've been toying with this chapter for several years, trying to fit it together in my head. It's morphed through several changes and concepts. I won't say I'm 100% happy with it, but perhaps that's the way it should be. It's not meant to be happy in the first place. Besides; the dark, sadistic side of my muse is pleased with it, so there is that. Chalk it up to the accumulation of two years' worth of grad school tension.

## Secret Sin - Murder

_ca. Late Summer, 1936_

They first hear of the situation while at church one Sunday, when old Whitfield announces to the congregation of New Hope that an unknown person has broken into a few homes and barns in the community. Hissing whispers of worry erupt throughout the pews even as Whitfield continues to speak: Quick fired a shot at whoever it was just two days earlier but missed. The break-ins all occurred at night, which makes it hard to identify the man. What they do know is that he's a white male, short in stature, with dark hair.

As the boys climb in the back of the truck after the service, Jeb confidently comments, "Pa'll kill 'im if he comes in _our_ house."

Kate climbs in the cab as Jewel snarls at the boys to sit down, before he gets in and slams the driver's door behind him.

"All this talk of break-ins makes me nervous," she murmurs, shifting the baby. Thank God the child fell asleep halfway through the sermon; her husband hates it when the baby cries in church.

"I wouldn't worry none about it." Jewel starts the truck with a scowl, and two thuds in the bed tell her the boys have finally obeyed him. "Jeb's right; I'll kill anyone who breaks in the house or the barn."

"Not in front of the boys, you won't."

"Don't start with me, Kate."

oOo

He is sleeping lightly when he hears a noise that isn't normal. It isn't the old house settling or the wind rattling the windows. He lifts his head to listen – it sounded like the old dipper in the cedar bucket outside on the porch.

After a few minutes of tense silence, in which the only sound is the house creaking, he lays his head back down, intent on going back to sleep because he'll have to be up before dawn to start harvesting the bottom fields. Even with the boys, there's much to be done and he doesn't have a lot of time to get the barley harvested before cold weather sets in.

And then, without warning, a scream rents the still night air.

" _Paaaaaaaaaaaaa!_ "

Jewel is on his feet and out in the hall before it has even ended. He hears Kate scream his name from their bed, for she has no idea what has happened either, and Jeb's scream would wake the dead.

Jewel collides with someone in the hall, but it isn't one of his children. The man stumbles backwards, away from him, and before Jewel can grab him and throw him, the unknown intruder gains his footing and flees through the back door.

Jewel runs back to the bedroom and grabs the shotgun from beside the door. Back in the hall, Jeff meets him, wide-eyed and frightened, with Jeb right behind him. Jewel pays them no heed and runs into the back yard. The moon is only a thin crescent, shedding hardly any light, and he realizes he wouldn't be able to find the intruder even with a lantern. He listens intently, but all he can hear now is the breathing of his wife and children, behind him in the doorway.

He turns quietly, and quickly goes back onto the stoop, where he whispers to Kate, "Get the pistol out of the dresser. If someone comes in and they don't tell you who they are, shoot 'em."

"He's probably gotten away by now...!" Kate is shaking with fear, her voice barely audible.

"No. He hasn't. I can't hear anything. I'd hear him running through the fields – too much crop out there. He's close to the house. Go on. I'll check the barn."

He walks off before Kate can argue, moving silently towards the barn.

But to his confusion, there isn't anyone there. He searches the loft and the stalls, only to find the cows and horse and mules staring at him balefully, not understanding why he's there at 2:00 in the morning. He checks the cotton house and the shed, but there is no one there, either.

Thirty minutes later, he mounts the steps and enters the kitchen.

"Kate?"

"I'm here," she says, emerging out of the darkness. She's holding his pistol in trembling hands, the barrel pointing down at the floor. "You didn't get him?"

"No. Everything was empty." He frowns over his shoulder, out towards the dark yard. It doesn't make any sense. Anyone fleeing would have to go through the fields, and he should have heard the rustling of corn and barley if that were the case. Even if whoever it was hid somewhere near the house, he should have been able to find them in the barn or the sheds, despite the lack of light.

"Maybe it was a ghost," Jeb whispers.

"Ain't no such thing," Jewel growls. "Git on back to bed. We got work to do in the morning, boy."

As the boys trudge back to the room they share, he adds quietly to his wife, "You keep that pistol on you tomorrow, ya hear me, Kate? You can use the holster to make sure you got it on you all the time."

"I can't shoot no one," she mumbles in a low voice. "It ain't Christian, Jewel."

He turns and grabs her shoulder roughly. "I don't give a damn about that. Someone comes in this house, you defend yourself, Kate. You understand me? You shoot any son of a bitch who dares to come in this house!"

She looks down at the pistol in her hands, but says nothing.

Jewel shakes her lightly. "Kate. You got a right to defend yourself and the baby. The Lord ain't gonna begrudge you that. I'll have the boys with me. We'll be too far away tomorrow morning. But if I hear a shot, I'll get back here quick-like. I'll have the horse down there with me. You understand me? Don't you let no one in this house iffn you don't know 'em."

She finally nods, presses the pistol back into his hands, and crawls into bed, turning her back towards him. He ignores that; he doesn't care if she's mad. He cares about protecting what's his.

oOo

While the boys hitch the team the next morning, Jewel rides the horse over to Tull's and tells them what happened the night before. Cora nods and insists she'll go sit with Kate for the day. Vernon just rubs the back of his neck and mumbles about needing to harvest his crops like he can't make up his own mind to save his life.

But nothing happens that day – Cora and Kate see no one around the house, and though Jewel pays more attention to the nearby woods than the crop or the boys, he sees nothing unusual, either.

However, later in the evening, after dinner, Cora and Vernon come back over to his place, their faces pinched and worried.

Kate meets them in the yard.

"Something wrong, ma?"

"Someone's been in the eggs," Cora says without preamble, her brow knitted together.

Jewel, having locked up the barn for the night and happening upon the conversation, narrows his eyes. "How'd you know?"

Cora purses her lips together, like she always does when he's around, but she finally says, "I gathered 'em afore I came over this morning to sit with Kate. I had 'em in a basket in the kitchen. There were twenty-eight. When I got home, there were twenty-three."

Jewel doesn't argue with her – everyone in the goddamn county knows Cora counts eggs like a city man would count money in a bank.

"He probably took some of our crops, too," Vernon says, gazing out across Jewel's fields.

"Wouldn't know if it he did." Jewel frowns and gazes out into the twilight. "Still..."

"Makes me uneasy," Vernon admits.

"Ain't never had anything like this 'round these parts," Cora says flatly. " _No one_ in New Hope would steal like this."

"Well, whoever it is, he knows the area," Jewel responds, frowning at his mother-in-law.

She starts to protest, but he shakes his head and cuts her off. "No. Whoever it was knew how to get around me last night without making noise going through those fields. There's corn and barley all out there. I'd have heard it rustling if someone were running through it. They were smart enough to know not to run through the crop. I think they came in the front door too, and they knew how to get around me to get to the back door. Seems to me they know their way around these farms and our houses. And whoever it was didn't look in your hen house for them eggs either. They went into your kitchen and found 'em."

Cora turns a shade paler, and Kate murmurs, "Jewel's got a point, ma. Any normal person aiming to steal eggs would look in the hen house first, wouldn't they? And you usually put 'em in a basket on the back of the counter, so no one'd be able to see 'em through the screen or the window."

"Door was unlocked though," Vernon replies gravely. "We never lock it. They could've come inside and seen the basket. No one 'round here locks doors."

"If I were you," Jewel responds, "I'd lock 'em tonight. He's still around the area. He might'n go on down the road, or he might stay here, out'n the woods. He knows there's corn and eggs at our farms. Milk, too."

"Jewel's right, Cora." Vernon sighs. "We'd best lock up tonight."

Cora looks like she wants to argue, but instead she starts singing under her breath and she storms back for the wagon. Vernon sighs and follows her after nodding to Kate.

Jewel heads back inside, and Kate follows him only when he hollers for her to get in before it gets dark.

oOo

Though they remain on edge for two more days, no one sees hide or hair of the thief. The men around New Hope openly carry their guns, watching the tree lines warily, for news has spread that the man broke in at Jewel and Tull's places. Kate wonders if the stranger has moved on, but her husband doubts it.

And then, four nights after Cora stormed off to lock her doors for the first time in her life, the boys come in from the barn looking edgy.

"Y'all wash up," Kate reminds them without looking at them, for she's checking dinner on the stove.

The boys glance at each other, but say nothing – nor do they move.

Kate turns to them in annoyance. "Y'all hear me?" she demands, wondering if they are deliberately sassing her.

"What the _hell's_ gotten into you boys?" Jewel growls, coming in the back door looking furious. "Yer ma told you to wash up –"

"Strange man in the barn," Jeff mumbles, looking at the floor.

Instantly, Kate feels her skin prickle and her heartbeat jumps; Jewel is already out the door and striding across the yard to the barn. She hurries to the screen to watch him, her hands twisting together. Her husband is a strong man, but she still doesn't want him hurt.

"Where'd you see him?" she demands of the boys.

Jeb answers. "He came up and spoke to us."

She turns and looks at him sharply. "He _what_?"

"He said he was our uncle and didn't want to hurt us. Looked a bit like Uncle Cash, I guess, but I ain't never seen him before."

Kate glances back out the door. "Cash is in town..."

"Naw, ma, it weren't Uncle Cash, it just looked kinda like him. But he was real strange. Something wrong with 'im. He weren't normal-like."

Kate's eyes widen in horror as something dawns on her, and she pushes herself through the screen door. "You boys stay in the kitchen!" she hollers over her shoulder, while running towards the barn.

_Jewel would kill him if he sees him...!_

"Jewel!" she shouts. " _Jewel_!"

Jewel emerges from the barn, looking mad as fire. "Kate, what the _hell_ are you doing out here? Would've thought you'd've had enough sense to stay in the goddamn house while I –"

She skids up to him and grabs his arms. " _It's your brother_ ," she breathes.

He looks at her in confusion. "What in God's name you going on about?"

She pulls him away from the barn a bit and glances around nervously, before she says in a low voice, "That stranger spoke to the boys while they were in the barn, Jeb just told me."

"That son of a bitch spoke to _our boys_?"

His face is going pale, never a good sign, but she plows on. "The boys said the man looked like Cash, but weren't Cash, 'cause Cash's in town..."

"Ain't no one else looks like Cash that I know of...! 'Cept maybe Vardaman but –"

"Yes there is," Kate insists. "There's _one other person_."

She sees the dawning in Jewel's eyes, but he shakes his head. "Can't be. He's –"

"Could've gotten out," she murmurs. "Boys said this man was awfully odd. Not right in the head. Something wrong with him."

For the first time, she sees a flash of fear in Jewel, replaced immediately by sheer anger. "Come on," he says, taking her arm and guiding her back to the house. "He ain't in the barn, I finished checking. Explains how he got away from me the other night too, and how he knew where yer ma kept eggs in the kitchen."

"Jewel," she pleads, but he ignores her.

When they get back to the kitchen again, Jewel towers over the boys. "What'd that son of a bitch say to you boys?" he demands. "You start at the beginning Jeb, you hear me?"

Jeb looks sullen. "Was putting the mules away, and Jeff was milking the cow. Strange man came in through the back and I was gonna holler for you when I saw him pa, but he shushed me. Said he weren't gonna hurt me and asked if I'd just listen to him 'cause he was hungry. Said he'd traveled a long way and knew you a long time ago and that he was our uncle, but then he started talking to someone else, someone who weren't in the barn. Like a dead person or somethin'. Started talking about a coffin. Kept sayin' he done tried to help some dead woman and the coffin but someone kept stopping him from helping her. He didn't make no sense. I was getting kinda scared so I called out to him a couple of times and then the cow lowed and he sorta came back, looked all him around like he didn't know how he got there. Begged me not to say nothing to you, said you didn't like him because y'all didn't have the same pa. Dunno what he was on about. Said we looked like you and your pa and not him and his pa. Then he started talking to himself again. I wondered if'n he got bit by a mad coon or something. I was about to holler for you when he suddenly looked ran out. So Jeff and I came on back to the house, quick like, and told ma."

Kate sank into a chair at the table. God help her...

"You boys listen to me, ya hear?" Jewel's voice is dark and low. "Jeb, you're gonna carry a pistol tomorrow, and if'n you see this man, you're to shoot him, you understand me?"

"No," Kate interrupts, her voice stronger than she feels. "They ain't gonna commit murder, Jewel, not on their own kinfolk –"

"He ain't kinfolk," Jewel snarls, his lip curling back in fury. "Least of all not ours! I swore I'd kill him if I saw him again –"

"Then _you_ kill him!" Her voice raises sharply. " _You_ kill him, Jewel, but don't you dare ask the boys to kill for you! Jeb's too young to be committing murder! Ain't right, Jewel, it's a sin! Bible says murdering is a _sin_!"

Jeb looks like he doesn't know who to agree with – pa done give him an order, but he knows he ought to follow the Bible, so he stays silent, his eyes wide and round.

Jewel takes a deep breath, his face paler than ever. "Fine then. Pack up yer supper, I'm taking you over to yer ma's tonight, and you and the boys and the baby can stay there until I get this sorted. I'll ride over to Quick and the others, tell 'em what's happening. We'll find the son of a bitch –"

"Stop swearing in front of the boys, Jewel!"

In anger, he shouts, "Damn it, Kate, shut the _hell_ up for once and listen to me! I ain't gonna let him live! If he's got the goddamn nerve to show up here and test me, I'll kill him! He's dangerous! He ain't supposed to be out of that asylum, he's mad – we all know it! Even Jeb thought he was mad! Pack up your supper _now_!"

Rounding on his sons, he snarls, "Boys! You be ready to leave in five minutes, you hear me? Jeb, you get the baby, damn it, and help your ma! Iffn' I find out you sassed her or don't do something she tells you to do, I'll tear your backside off, you understand me?"

The boys scamper off down the hall to do as they're told faster than they've ever done in their lives, and Kate weeps silently as she packs up supper to take to her ma's.

oOo

Cora and Vernon look shocked to find them at her doorstep thirty minutes later. Kate's eyes are red and puffy, the boys look scared, and the baby is crying. Kate drove the wagon over, and Jewel is on that horse. Seems Jewel is always on that horse.

"Kate'll explain," he says shortly. "Don't want to waste no time. 'Ppreciate if you put the mules and wagon in your barn for the night, Vernon. Don't trust 'em in my own. Hated to leave the cow and the truck there, even if Kate's got the key to the truck. But I got to head over to Quick's straight away. Need to form a posse and find that son of a –"

Cora's lips purse together, and Jewel glares at her.

"Who is it?" Vernon asks seriously, catching on to the fact that Jewel knows whom the stranger is.

Jewel's voice is low and full of hate.

" _Darl_."

oOo

"Someone needs ter ride to town and tell Cash," Cora insists, pressing a cup of coffee into Kate's hands. "This is _nonsense_ –!"

Kate shakes her head. "What's Cash gonna do, ma? He can't do nothing with his leg, hardly."

"He can talk sense into Jewel! Darl doesn't deserve to die just because Jewel doesn't like him," Cora snaps. "He was a good boy, Addie's favorite, and –"

"Darl scared _my boys_ half to death," Kate whispers angrily. "God knows what he would have done to them in a few minutes more...! I can't lose my boys, ma. I _can't_."

Vernon sighs and rubs his hand behind his neck. "Kate's right, Darl ain't in his right mind. It's why he was in the asylum in the first place. Jeb told me when I put him to bed that he thought the man was mad. Jeb was scared, Cora. They thought a rabid coon done got the man, wondered if they'd be next."

"It still ain't no reason to be committing sin! 'Vengence is _mine_ , saith the Lord'! Darl was a _good man_ –!"

"The Lord also saith 'Give until Caesar'," Vernon says quietly. "We set laws in the land for this sort of thing. Jewel and Quick'll go to the sheriff and the sheriff'll deputize 'em and then it'll all be legal. Maybe someone'll stop Jewel before he fires a shot, and they'll just arrest Darl before any killin' happens."

"Arrest him?! They'll _lynch_ him, Vernon! It ain't right! They'll lynch him like he's a common negro –!"

"Now don't go jumping to conclusions, Cora..."

Kate interrupts out of sheer frustration and worry. "I'm going to bed with the boys. Jewel's a good man, ma. Don't you start on him like you always do! It's Darl something's wrong with, even if he was Addie's favorite! Don't matter now, Addie's long dead, and Jewel and I have a right to protect our boys!"

"Don't you dare tell me you approve of Jewel killing his own kin!"

"I don't know what Darl did to him, but it was something. He ain't ever told me but I've known it since before we were married. He don't like to talk about it. It's between him and Darl. Ain't my place to interfere, but it is my place to protect my boys."

"Jewel's been committing sin his whole life, just like Addie, and this'll put him straight in hell, Kate! I never wanted you married to a man going to hell!"

For once in her life, Kate loses her temper. "Ain't your place to say who goes to hell or not, ma. It's the Lord's."

Without waiting for a response (for Cora is too shocked at Kate's outburst to do anything other than sputter incoherently), Kate turns for the spare bedroom to sleep with the boys.

oOo

Whitfield shows up at the Tull's place the next day, his face grave and worn and old. Man must be well into his late eighties, but he still rides on horseback as though he were forty.

"I suspect they will flush him out," he says quietly, as Cora plies him with black coffee and a bit of cake. "The Lord saith thy shalt not steal."

"Cora's worried that Jewel will kill Darl," Vernon responds, rubbing his neck.

Cora snaps angrily, "I'm not _worried_. I _know_ Jewel will kill Darl. And that's just as much a sin as theft!"

Whitfield sighs. "I placed strict orders on the posse not to kill the man. He is to be turned directly over to the asylum. Don't know if Jewel heard me or not, though. Sometimes I think he deliberately ignores me. Can't imagine what I've done to him..." He trails off, looking awkward.

"Jewel is just concerned is all, Reverend," Kate answers. "Darl gave the boys an awful fright last night."

A knock on the door signals another visitor, but to Kate's surprise, it isn't a member of the posse or her husband. Instead, Cash hobbles in, leaning heavily on his cane. His oldest boy drove him out, though how the lad is tall enough to see over the dash of the truck, Kate doesn't know.

"Men from the asylum just told us yesterday. Don't know why they didn't tell us sooner. Been at least two weeks since he got out," he says, nodding politely to Cora, who quickly and politely hands him a cup of coffee and pulls a chair out for him. "Mrs. Bundren was in a right state about the whole thing. Pa just kept saying ' _For God_ ' over and over. Vardaman acted right strange about it, couldn't get any sense from him. Reminded me of Darl when Darl went mad, actually. Bit eerie. Mrs. Bundren told him to straighten up or she'd kick him out of the house. Hated to leave him there but I didn't have no choice."

"The asylum was probably trying to find Darl on their own," Cora says, as though she knows everything. "Hoping they wouldn't have to tell y'all. They probably knew Jewel would try to kill him!"

"Right shame." Cash sighs. "Him gettin' out at all, I mean."

"Kate says he scared Jeb and Jeff half to death," Vernon says.

"I don't doubt it. He was peculiar even on a good day. I sent Andy on around to the barn to help Jeb and Jeff with the milking while he's here. Sorry I can't help you myself, Vernon."

"No, no." Vernon shakes his head. "Wouldn't want you to with that leg. Acting up, still?"

"Mostly when the weather changes."

"Well," Whitfield rises, still tall despite his age. "I'd best head back to the church. Cash, I suspect we'll need you to join the posse as a precaution. Vernon, you too. Cora, you keep praying – pray they won't kill him."

"Might be best for him," Cash murmurs, gazing into his coffee.

Cora gasps. " _Cash Bundren_ , I ain't ever –!"

Cash smiles sadly. "This world ain't his, Cora. Never was. He was all right when we were young'uns, but he changed when ma died. Don't know what came over him."

"It was dragging that coffin and body all over –!"

"We was doing what ma wanted," Cash reminded her. "I wondered sometimes, why she planned it out that way. Darl did, too. But nothing excuses a man from destroying another man's property, and that's what makes the difference. Darl ain't right in the head, Cora. I'm worried he might burn someone's house or barn down, or an entire field. Nothing makes that kind of destruction of property right. If he does it again, the law wouldn't be forgiving to just put him back in the asylum."

oOo

It is almost midnight and the moon is new, but the men of New Hope don't need the light of the moon when they have lanterns and torches. Armstid caught up with them only twelve hours earlier, concerned because one of his pistols was missing from a few nights ago and he didn't have any idea what happened to it. With him were thirty-five other men from nearby communities, armed to the teeth and ready to help search.

Whitfield rode along in an attempt to be a voice of reason, though admittedly, many wondered how hard he actually tried, for he said very little even in the midst of tragedy and horror.

MacCallum's youngest twin's body has been covered with a couple of feed sacks from Brown's place, Armstid's pistol has been retrieved with three bullets instead of six, and the culprit has been restrained with ropes and a noose thrown over a dead tree.

He still struggles however, his dark eyes black in the night and boring into Jewel Bundren's, who stands wooden-backed at the front of the circle of nearly seventy men who have been searching for nigh-on sixteen hours.

Despite looking right at Jewel, the culprit screams instead at Cash Bundren, who looks pitifully at him and murmurs something about how killin' just ain't right.

Whitfield finally speaks up. "Cash speaks the word of the Lord," he says, his voice ringing across the crowd, and silence falls from the grumbling, angry men. "The Bible says thou shalt not steal; thou shalt not murder! Thus saith the Lord! Sheriff, you must administer the law as you see fit, as deputized by the state of Mississippi and in the name of the Lord."

The Sheriff nods solemnly.

"Should we get a judge?" Vernon Tull asks hesitantly. He stands back from the scene, rubbing his face and not meeting anyone in the eye.

"No need for a judge, Vernon," the Sheriff says somberly. "Fifty men done seen him kill MacCallum's boy."

The culprit screams. " _It was self-defense! Cash, it was self-defense! They all attacked me all at once! What was I supposed to do, Cash?_ "

Cash winces and shifts his weight off his leg, but he says nothing else.

"Someone put a goddamn gag on his mouth!" Jewel shouts, grabbing a bandana from Joe Hempstead's pocket and storming forward.

"I can tell 'em all about _you_ , Jewel Bundren! They've a right to know who sins in this community! Who was your pa, huh? Tell them! I know who it was! I know Addie Bundren sinned! Your pa wasn't Anse Bundren, it was -"

But Jewel has already stuffed the bandana in the culprit's mouth and punched him in the face. He turns sharply to the sheriff, his eyes cold as ice.

"Enough of this goddamn nonsense. String 'im up, Sheriff."

oOo

The only reason Cora is speaking to any of them is because Reverend Whitfield condoned the whole thing.

"If the preacher hadn't said it was right in the eyes of the Lord, she'd have disowned all y'all, pa included," Kate comments quietly to Jewel a couple of mornings later.

"Preacher just didn't want to get lynched himself," Jewel says darkly. "But don't you tell yer ma that. She's still mad at me'n Cash regardless."

oOo

A couple of weeks later Jewel finds himself in town, much to his displeasure. Miss Daisy ain't none too pleased to see him, but when he flashes the badge the Sheriff gave him the night they formed a posse, she grudgingly lets him in and agrees to fetch Della down if Jewel don't say nothing to the authorities about her house of women of the night.

Time hasn't been good to the woman who calls herself Della; she looks far older than she is, thin as a rail and her hair dull and stringy, but he doesn't care about that. Her eyes briefly widen when she sees him, and then narrow dangerously. Their last meeting was supposed to be their last.

"This man says he's a sheriff's deputy. Says he has something to tell you," Miss Daisy says shortly. "Ain't here for anything else and ain't here to turn us in. Hurry it up, deputy – if that's what you really are. We got plenty to do before nightfall 'round the place."

He picks his words carefully. "There was a break-out at the asylum in Jefferson."

Her eyes snap to his and her face drains of what little color it had.

"Bastard stole a pistol near New Hope and shot Lafe MacCallum. Understood MacCallum came here often and saw you some. Thought you might want to know he won't be coming back around no more."

Her lips purse together and her eyes close tightly, but she nods once to show she understood. After a moment, she asks coldly, "The man who broke out – what happened to him?"

"Hung." His lip curls back. "For murder and theft of property, in accordance with justice and the law."

She nods again to show she understood. "Good. I thank you for letting me know, deputy."

"I won't be coming back around," he adds, glancing at Miss Daisy, so she thinks he's speaking to her instead of the girl. "Appreciate you letting me in."

"Glad that good for nothing son of a bitch MacCallum won't be back," he hears the matron scoff to Della. "Was always drunk off his ass and never had much money to pay. You have better customers than that sorry son of a bitch. Back upstairs with you, Della. You got work to do."

oOo

When Whitfield passes away a few months later, no one can make heads nor tails of his will, which leaves most of his worldly possessions to various members of his congregation. But it's not that part that confuses the community of New Hope. Rather, no one has the faintest idea why Whitfield would leave Jewel Bundren his horse. Plenty of people in the community could've used a horse besides Jewel Bundren. Everyone knows Jewel's got a horse already, plus that Ford truck he paid off two summers ago, four mules to pull the plows and the wagon, a milk cow, and chickens. And everyone knows Jewel hates going to church almost as much as he hates his mother-in-law. Not to mention Whitfield and Jewel never seemed to get along, if they even spoke at all on Sunday mornings.

"I suspect Whitfield wanted you to remember the Bible," Cora says knowingly, in that infuriating way of hers that pisses Jewel off to no ends. "The book of Job saith, _Hast thou given the horse strength? Hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? The glory of his nostrils is terrible!_ "

Jewel rolls his eyes and mutters something profane under his breath.

Cora's eyes flash. "You just remember, Jewel Bundren, that the Lord is the ruler of this universe, and it was by his law and hand that your brother died, and not yours!"

"Just so long as he's dead," Jewel responds coldly, "I don't care whose hand it was by."

"And you remember that Whitfield was trying to save your soul by giving you that horse! Don't you go worshipping it more than the Lord!"

"It's the Lord's job to save my soul, not Whitfield's or a horse's."

"Whitfield was an instrument of the Lord!" she shrieks. "If not his job, then who's?"

"We'd best be getting home," Kate interrupts. "Tomorrow morning'll be here early and Jewel and the boys have work to do in the fields."

Without another word, they leave Cora to wash the Sunday dinner dishes, Kate steering Jewel to the truck and ordering the boys into the back, while they call goodbyes to their cousins and Aunt Eula.

She'll be glad when all this blows over, she thinks, as the engine turns over with a roar. It's enough to make her head hurt, still.

**~FIN~**


End file.
